


Winter Heart

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angst, Drama, Episode Related, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 00:39:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/792031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim find himself all alone on a cold winter morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winter Heart

**Author's Note:**

> This vignette is post Neighborhood Watch and TS by BS, though it hardly matters in the grand scheme. It was previously published in Come To Your Senses 16 in Jan. 2000. Warning! It was written during my dark phase and angst abounds.

## Winter Heart

by J M Griffin

Author's disclaimer: They belong to us all as far as I'm concerned. After all, we are the ones keeping them alive.

* * *

WINTER HEART  
By J. M. Griffin 

The heater in the old Ford hardly worked any more, but James Ellison didn't really feel the cold. There had been a time when he had talked of having the heater replaced. A time when he'd had a reason to. A time long ago in a galaxy far, far away. Jim snorted to himself as he took the freeway exit that would take him home. 

It was Christmas Eve, actually three a.m. Christmas morning. The streets were quiet; it was too cold for even the heartiest revelers tonight. Cascade was not known for harsh winters, but this one looked to be a record breaker. Snow in November, snow at Christmas and it was forecasted that snow would bring in the new year. 

Jim started to make the final turn toward the loft and he couldn't do it. Instead, he swung the truck in a big u-turn and headed in the other direction. He drove in utter silence; unable to find anything besides Christmas carols on the radio and having no desire to listen to those. Several miles and turns later found him in a small, slightly ratty subdivision. Little houses all alike, little houses made of ticky-tacky. Wasn't that how the poem went? Jim shook his head to get rid of the inanity as he pulled up across the street from one of the houses. 

There were no lights decorating the place, but a Christmas tree glimmered in the front window. A girl's bike, an old one, not a new Christmas present, was on the porch. Jim ignored it and put the truck in park and settled back to listen. 

It didn't take him long to find what he was searching for - - Blair's heartbeat was there inside the house. From the sound of it, he was lying in his lover's arms. Katie Johnson's arms, Jim made himself say the name. Made himself admit that Blair was living a full and peaceful life as Katie's second husband and Rachel's stepfather. He was happy, damn it. Jim knew he had no right to intrude on him like this, no right to spy on him. 

But he couldn't help it. He couldn't help himself. It was Christmas and he didn't want to be alone... 

"Jim, Jim?" 

Ellison jerked awake, aware only that he was cold, so cold. 

"Jesus, Jim, what are you doing out here? Spying on me?" 

"Yes," Blame the honesty on his cold condition or on the fact that he had not the heart to lie to Blair again, never, ever again. 

"Awwww, Jim. You can't do this. I have a life of my own, now. I can't be your lover. I can't be your Guide anymore. You threw me away, man. It took me a while, but I've finally found a woman I love; one who loves me back. I have a daughter. I'm going to adopt Rachel, the legal work is almost done." 

Jim just looked at his former partner, drinking him in, his dark hair pulled back severely, his blue, blue eyes, hauntingly sincere. Blair ripped Jim's heart out with his honeyed voice, the earnest one that had guided him back from countless zone outs. The one he had always hoped to hear call out his name in love and passion. 

It had never happened because he had been too frightened to tell Blair Sandburg how much he loved him. He'd thrown his best friend and Guide out of their home, packed his stuff for him in big, packing boxes. Then, he'd almost let Blair die under the wan sunlight of a spring day. He'd been off fighting the enemy when Blair woke up in the hospital and so had never held his hand and told him how sorry he was, how things should be, could be, different between them. 

Now his life was nothing but regrets. 

It had begun to snow and tiny flakes nestled in Blair's hair. The smaller man shivered, huddled in his big overcoat. He had moccasins on his feet. Jim had given them to him for Christmas a few years back. At least he hadn't thrown out everything Jim had ever given him. No, practical Blair would not do that. 

"Go inside, bbbabe. You'll catch your death." Perhaps it was the tremble in Jim's voice, or maybe the fact that Jim had called him babe that made Blair look at him more closely, concern on his face. Still, Jim looked away. He didn't want even that if Blair could not be his all the way. He didn't want... No, he was lying to himself. He'd take anything he could get. 

When he looked back, Blair was walking away back toward the house. 

Jim felt tears form in his eyes and to his horror a bitter sob bubbled out from between his half frozen lips. "BBBlair." 

But the other man never even turned around. 

* * *

"Jim, Jim!!" 

"Jim, talk to me, you're scaring me here." Blair was in his face, all light and love and immense concern. Jim grabbed his lover and hung on for dear life. "Shhh, shhh, love, it's okay. Whatever it is can't be that bad. I'm here, Jim. I'm here, man." The younger man crooned, then kissed his lover's temple softly, smoothing back Jim's hair with one hand. 

Coming fully awake, Jim pulled Blair even closer, wrapping the smaller man in his embrace, burying his head against Blair's t-shirted chest. 

It was cold in the loft, unseasonably cold this Christmas morning, The weather station has predicted that the intense cold would last through the rest of the week. Breathing deeply, using the inane thought to clear his head, Jim eventually stopped shivering and shaking. He heard the heater cycle on; it was set to warm the loft up a bit before their normal waking time. 

"Jim? You with me, love?" 

"Blair," Jim said. It was a benediction. 

"I'm here, Jim," Blair repeated. "You want to tell me what the dream was about?" 

"No." Jim breathed softly. And he clutched Blair tighter, listening to the blower hum as the heater warmed their home, listening to his Guide's heart as he rested safe in his arms. 

* * *

End

 


End file.
